What If It All Means Something
by withoutapast
Summary: My own season 4 vague, I know. Please see inside for pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Updates will be weekly (sometimes more often, sometimes less). Sorry for those who expected this sooner, in my absence I discovered, to my great shock, that I had a life; but my GA/McStizzie obsession has cut that life short, so I'm back and very glad to be so. On an entirely different note, this is rather short for me, but I couldn't stand not putting at least something up.

**Summary**: My (hope for) season 4, picks up following "Didn't We Almost Have it All." I can't fit a whole 'episode' in one chapter, so they will be broken up, though I haven't decided on a ratio yet.

**Pairings **(yeah, so this does essentially give away the direction I'm heading in, but I myself find it frustrating to invest time and emotion into a story and then have characters you don't want together end up that way, so you have been warned): Meredith/Derek, McStizzie centric (although considering I'm writing this as though it were episodes for the upcoming season and it is _Grey's_ Anatomy, it will be fairly Meredith-focused as well), Addison/Alex, George/Lexie, and Cristina/Burke. These will happen eventually, but give me a few chapters to get some things sorted out, as I'm sure you all know the finale left a lot to be cleaned up :)

**Rating**: T for language, mature themes

**4x01: "A Place Called Home" – Kim Richey**

_MVO: We're born into it. We grow up in it. And then one day we leave it and devote ourselves to finding it again, to making our own._

They could feel the thunder shake the hallway floor beneath their seated bodies, their heads lolling against the cool metal door of Burke's vacant apartment. It was a dry storm, the clouds crackled ominously over the ceiling above them but no rain fell.

"I can't stay in Burke's apartment," Cristina declared matter-of-factly as tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "It's _Burke's_ apartment. His. I can't live there if he doesn't."

"Well, you can't live outside of it," Meredith feebly informed her.

"I gave mine up," Cristina continued, ignoring Meredith's remark. "So I have no where to go. I'm homeless." Cristina threw her hands up in defeat and absently slid sideways against her friend.

"Stay with me," Meredith invited.

"I can't…"

"You don't have anywhere else, you said so yourself." Meredith's mouth uttered the comment before her brain could stop it. It sounded admittedly harsher than Meredith had meant it to, but it was the truth, she reasoned, and Cristina had been stubbornly refusing to swallow reality for the past hour. With a softened voice, she repeated, "Stay with me."

"With Izzie?" Although Cristina's uncertainty was visible in her scowl, her incredulity audible in her tone, the fact that she bothered to entertain the notion at all revealed to Meredith that she'd already acquiesced and her official acceptance was merely a formality.

"And Alex," Meredith gently reminded

"It's crowded."

Meredith agreed, "Very."

"I get unlimited access to your mother's surgical tapes," Cristina stipulated.

"Izzie does laundry," Meredith added.

"Okay."

"Okay."

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"Stevens?"

"Oh, God!" Izzie scrambled up from her position in the pews.

"No, don't get up for me…"

Interrupting Callie, Izzie mumbled an incoherent excuse, "I was just… I thought everyone had left."

"They have." 

"Except you," Izzie pointed out, her brows furrowing as she paused to actually consider her own observation. What _was_ she still doing here?

"And you."

Izzie's gaze fell to the abandoned altar. "He didn't come," she offered as an explanation.

"He did, but he left, remember?" Taking a seat next to the intern, Callie studied her face carefully. It was no mystery to Callie who Izzie had meant, but she wasn't going to make it that easy.

"No, not Burke," Izzie clarified.

"George?" There was a long pause during which neither said anything. Callie's eyes flashed dangerously. "What exactly is going on between you and my husband?"

Without directly answering Callie's question, Izzie confessed, "I love him." She took a long hesitant sigh before correcting her statement, "I'm _in_ love with him."

Izzie watched Callie's reaction from the corner of her eye.

Callie clenched her jaw and let her eyelids fall shut in disgust. "Is that…" She tried again, "Is that as much as… is that all?"

"I told him."

"You did what?!"

For the first time since Callie's initial greeting, Izzie turned to look at the resident head-on and stated simply, "I told him I loved him."

To her own immense surprise, Callie controlled the anger fuming inside her, her curiosity, however, was untamable and she couldn't stop herself from asking her next question, "What did he say?"

"That he'd see me at the wedding."

"And he didn't come."

"No, he didn't come."

Izzie laughed sardonically, "God, everything is so fucked up."

"Izzie…" Callie admonished, tossing a glance around the church.

Izzie shot her an annoyed glance, "It's empty."

"Yeah, it is," Callie reluctantly admitted.

"We also slept together."

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"What are you doing here?" Alex threw his body violently onto one of the tunnel's hospital beds, under which George sat. "And what the hell are you doing sitting on the floor?"

"What do you care?" George spat, allowing his aggression to find an undeserving target, and, for the first time that he could ever recall, truly not caring.

"Just for today, I do."

The sincerity in Alex's tone caught George off-guard. He felt his defenses crumbling as the emotional strain of the day erupted full-force inside him. "I can't go back home."

"To your wife?"

"Yes, to my wife, to Callie."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Alex peered over the edge of the bed, "What'd you do, O'Malley?" It wasn't an accusation, though the phrasing caused it to come off sounding as one. Instead, it was an invitation. And George was in no shape to turn down an invitation. If he had Izzie's faith, he would've gone to the wedding if only to be in a church, where he might divulge his secrets in confession.

"Izzie," he breathed.

"I guess it was more a question of who," Alex joked, but immediately halted his chuckle when George stiffened. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to…" Mentally kicking himself for… well, being himself, Alex mustered the sympathy he'd claimed to have at the beginning of their conversation. "But she wouldn't… Izzie's not the kind of girl to…"

"Sleep with a married man? I didn't think I was the kind of guy who'd cheat on his wife either," George laughed bitterly.

"You're a good guy, O'Malley."

"No, I'm not."

"You are," Alex disagreed. "From what you've just told me, you may be a shitty husband, but you're a good person. You're still you. You've been though a hell of a lot and you've made some stupid choices. Maybe you're just now realizing what Izzie's been telling you all along. One of your mistakes was your marriage."

George's disbelieving eyes clashed with Alex's sincere ones.

"She just left. Just like that," Derek emptied the contents of the glass into his mouth, reveling in the burning sensation of the liquid as it passed along his throat.

"Maybe it was purely coincidence."

Derek snorted his disagreement while motioning for Joe to pour him another.

"So what, Cristina loses Burke and Meredith thinks its imperative that she lose you too? That's fucked up."

Shooting Mark a glance, Derek again let his answer come without words.

Mark shook his head, "I don't think Meredith is _that_ fucked up."

Unable to let silence suffice any longer, Derek started to repeat the story he'd already told his friend four times. "Mark, she said, 'It's over,' twice and the look she gave me… if you could only have seen it."

"I know, I know," Mark waved his hand in a rather lame attempt to prevent a continuation of the retelling.

"And before that, after my…"

"Your very romantic speech that she's the love of your life, yes, yes, I know, I've heard it before," Mark interjected.

"Right, she just walked away." Derek looked as flabbergasted as if he had witnessed her departure seconds instead of hours ago.

Mark shrugged, "It's what she knows. It's comfortable."

"No, it's ridiculous, is what it is," Derek cried out, momentarily abandoning his drink.

"I'm not defending her. Here, in this moment, you are the wronged party."

"What's going to happen to us?"

"That, unfortunately, is up to you." Mark let his eyes take in the haggard appearance of the man beside him. In all their years of friendship, he could not remember ever seeing him so miserable. The melancholy that was wrapped tightly around him seemed to reach out and ensnare those close by. Mark felt himself being caught in it, and it was acutely suffocating. He hated being around sad people for that very reason.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** (belated): Grey's and the associated characters are not mine, they're the property of ABC and the goddess Shonda Rhimes.

**A/N**: So it looks as though it'll take me about 3 chapters to complete an 'episode,' just thought you'd want to know, which means next chapter will be 4x01 part three. I hope this isn't moving too slowly for everyone – there is a plot, I'm just having a little trouble getting into it. Also, a little warning, in my rush to get this posted, I didn't re-read to edit, so any errors are due to that… Thanks!

**4x01: A Place Called Home: Part 2**

"Guys, I think," Izzie squirmed slightly, uncomfortable either with what she was about to suggest or her position on the floor, "I think we need resolutions."

"Like New Year's Resolutions?" Meredith asked incredulously.

"NO, not like those. No one ever keeps those. We need the kind of resolutions that last."

Cristina scoffed, "Yeah, I bet if we call 'em something else, they'll be easier to stick to."

"And I think yours should be to limit the sarcasm," Izzie spat.

"What about me?"

Without a moment's pause, Izzie suggested, "Reform the dark and twisty."

"Not possible," Meredith sang out, seeming absurdly cheerful given the implication of her statement.

"She's right. I mean, if you want resolutions that will last, you need to at least be realistic."

"_I_ believe," Izzie pouted.

"If only that counted for something," Cristina said matter-of-factly. "OW! What was that for?"

Moving to defend herself against the return fire of the sofa pillow, Meredith chuckled, "Helping you keep your resolution. No sarcasm!"

"That's not _my_ resolution, that was Barbie's recommended resolution. And like I said before, what she thinks doesn't matter," Cristina turned to Izzie and unsentimentally added, "No offense."

"None taken," Izzie shrugged. Maybe Cristina was right. Maybe what she thought really didn't matter. It certainly seemed like an accurate assessment. George didn't care that she was in love with him. When her thoughts turned to George, her mind meandered, much to her chagrin, back to her conversation with Callie. It had ended as abruptly as it had begun. Callie had simply walked away. There had been no screaming, no tears, with the exception, of course, of the ones that had run endlessly down her own cheeks. No punches were thrown; although, she wished there had been, they would have been like morphine for her guilt. But Izzie knew that Callie had understood this as well. So instead of letting her fists speak the anger and hurt, Callie had left Izzie alone with her thoughts. It had not been Callie's grace that had kept her from letting their conversation turn into something more physical, rather it had been her keen sense of vengeance.

A soft hand on her should her, woke Izzie from her thoughts.

"Iz," Meredith repeated, "we have to go."

"What?" Izzie asked looking frantically from Meredith to Cristina.

Cristina shot Izzie a funny look before returning her focus to the beeping pager clutched between her fingers. "We've been paged 911," Meredith explained pointlessly before tossing Izzie her own pager.

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It wasn't possible. Addison peered out of her hotel room window at the gloom that seemed to have followed her from Seattle. It doesn't rain in LA. It rains in Seattle. Everyday, it rains in Seattle. But not in LA.

She carelessly grabbed at the remote and flipped on the TV to the Weather Channel. As the report played across the screen, she was less than amused to find that it was not raining in Seattle; though the skies were suffocated with clouds and the winds ravished the trees cruelly, no rain drops fell. _Figures_. Only she, with her impeccable sense of inappropriate timing, could divert storms from the rainy city to the rainless city.

The phone beside her untouched bed suddenly sprang to life, chanting a command that provoked haste. As she pressed the on button and brought the phone to her ear, she let out a low, angry growl of a greeting, "Hello?"

The voice that responded was one she didn't expect and one she could honestly say she didn't want to hear.

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"A what?" George practically shouted, perhaps trying to be heard over the deafening silence. The gratefulness he'd initially felt for his pager's relentless call, which saved him from a decidedly uncomfortable, eye-opening conversation with Alex was quickly dissolving into disbelief, as if he hadn't had enough of that today to last a lifetime.

Alex, on the other hand, felt his original annoyance at the page only grow. He'd been the good guy. He'd listened to George whine about the problems that he had created for himself. And in the end he hadn't even gotten to release his own troubles. He'd be damned if he were to be a martyr for the greater good.

"A house, O'Malley, Jeez, get an ear exam," Alex, earlier pleasantries forgotten, repeated what Bailey had just explained.

"Thanks Karev," Baliey responded, sounding not at all thankful, just as Meredith, Izzie, and Cristina came sprinting around the corner. "You three! Decide to take a holiday on this dry day? I page, you answer! It's a 911. A house collapsed on a woman."

"What?!" No single voice could be made out of the medley, as the three doctors peered around Bailey, trying to catch a glimpse of the injured. Izzie was the first to give up and focus her attention elsewhere, on George.

"I've got to go," George shook his head before slinking gracelessly away.

A hundred thoughts fired through Izzie's brain, each as discomforting as the one before.

"I'll explain later." Bailey nodded towards George's retreating form.

What Bailey meant as a comforting gesture, only served to cause Izzie more confusion.

Nurses seemed to appear out of nowhere, each shouting out the patient's stats as they wheeled her down the hall to the OR.

"What took you so long?" Bailey asked. If they didn't beat her to the patient, they were late.

"I was occupied," Derek answered incredulously. He didn't appreciate being ordered, particularly if the one doing the ordering was a subordinate. Not that he classified Miranda Bailey as a subordinate, he thought wryly. In school he'd been a fast learner, in the hospital he was no different. Between the two of them, Bailey reigned supreme. He couldn't pull rank, it meant nothing to her. He couldn't intimidate her. _She_ was the intimidating one.

"Don't give me that look," Bailey reprimanded. "You're about to be occupied again." Derek found the patient's chart shoved into his hands.

"Damn."

"Mmmhmmm." Having made her point, Bailey turned to four doctors before her, studying each one for any sign of longing. The only one who appeared to be truly indifferent got the case. "Izzie, you're on this." The other three let out overly-dramatized groans. "Shut-up, you three. Karev and Grey, pit!" Her assignment was again met with groans. "Move it!" She eyed them commandingly as they took off running, looking distinctly like wounded puppies.

"Dr. Bailey…"

Bailey, eyebrows raised, turned to Cristina, "Yes?"

"What about me?" Cristina asked as though the question were obvious.

"You? You go home." 

"But I was paged," she protested.

"Only because there wasn't time to discriminate. You shouldn't have answered."

"What kind of doctor would I be if I didn't answer a 911?"

"The kind of doctor who is currently on leave."

"Yeah, and that's not me."

"Yang, get out of here!"

Cristina knew better than to try to convince Dr. Bailey that she was in adequate emotional shape to operate. She also knew that Dr. Bailey was a busy woman who did not have the kind of time to play hall monitor. "Fine. I'm leaving," she sighed, trying her best to act resigned.

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"Dr. Shepard, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to stand as far away from me as possible."

Izzie's forehead creased in consternation. "Would you like me to leave then?"

"Dr. Stevens! I need you stand as far back as possible _for the time being_. I'll call you over after I open up."

"Oh."

"Dr. Shep…"

"The why can wait."

"Oookay."

For twenty minutes Derek went about finding the least intrusive way to enter the brain of the woman on the table. From her distant perspective, which she continually grumbled about under her breath, Izzie could see very little of the exposed head. However her view of Derek's facial expressions was unhindered, which made it painfully obvious that frustration was wearing his already frayed nerves dangerously thin.

Unable to help herself, Izzie interrupted, "Dr., if I might…" She sidled up close to him, earning her only an incredulous look from Derek and jealous glares from the surrounding scrub nurses. With her uninvited assistance, Derek felt himself relax his frantic efforts and finally find an acceptable entrance to expose the brain. From that point on, Izzie watched in captive fascination, as Derek methodically repaired the damage. "Like a lullaby," she whispered as he closed up.

As they scrubbed out Derek gave her a funny look, which Izzie shrugged off. It could have been worse. After quite literally taking the scalpel from his hand at one point she was expecting something along the line of a reprimand to follow. But he didn't say a word.

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The airport was empty. Okay, no it was full. But two shots and a very heavy glass of wine had found their way down her throat and Addison hoped that by pretending the airport was vacant, she too could just not be there.

However, she tipsily acknowledged was sitting in a very crowded LAX, holding a plan ticket to Seattle in her shaky fingers. She blamed him. For this, for everything. It was all his fault. But still, when he called, she couldn't resist the temptation to run to him. _So this it how Mark must have felt about me_, she thought. _Then did he hate loving me?_

While her mind worked itself up over the man who had called her, it wandered, of its own unconscious accord, to Alex Karev. Damn it. Was she really going back to Seattle? The city was full of men, taken men and men who couldn't be had, but no available men. If she returned, it would be to Alex, to Mark, to Derek. It was ironic that the reason she left would be the same reason that brought her home. She let out a brief, humorless laugh at her own bad luck.

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"Chief!"

"Yang?"

"I saw you have a BLANK scheduled for 2:00."

"I do." There was a hint of a question in his voice.

"I'd like to scrub in."

"Yang, you don't ask to scrub in, you get asked to scrub in."

"So ask me," Cristina said as though the solution were obvious.

"Look I have to go, I have a meeting. Are you even supposed to be here?"

"Would I be asking to scrub in if I weren't on duty?"

Dr. Webber didn't even grant her a moment's pause before spitting out an accusatory, "Yes." He quickly paged Bailey to alert her to the presence of a certain intern, while the fugitive slipped discretely away.

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"You left the wedding in quite a hurry," Meredith pried gently.

"I left after the groom at least."

"And you came here."

"Look, Grey, if you have a question, just ask it, don't dance around the issue like a twelve-year old," Alex quipped.

"Clearly you know what I'm getting at, so instead of being a coward, just explain."

Alex's icy glare did not have its intended effect on the target. Meredith only raised her eyebrows in anticipation of a long-awaited confession.

Sighing in annoyance and, though he'd never admit it, relief, after all this was what he'd hoped to accomplish by talking to George, he began, "I came back for Ava. I… I don't know exactly… but I think I…"

"You fell in love with her."

"Yes. Maybe. I wanted more time to see, to be with her."

"So you missed her?"

"She was gone by the time I got back. Before she left, she begged me to give her a reason to stay."

"Alex, I know this isn't what you want to hear right now..."

"Do you see boobs? This isn't girl-talk, say what you have to say."

"If you keep doing this, you are going to end up alone. If that's what you want, that's fine. But is it really what you want?"

Suddenly Alex remembered why he avoided having these types of conversations, particularly with women. What if he didn't know what he wanted? Or what if he knew exactly what he wanted but couldn't have it?

"What about you?" Getting out of this thoroughly unpleasant conversation was going to take some maneuvering, he decided.

"This isn't about me."

"It could be." It's going to be.

"But it isn't."

"Do you want to be alone, Meredith?"

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"What are you still doing here?"

"Are you Bailey?"

"Obviously not."

"Well then, it really isn't any of your business where I am, is it?"

"Cristina! Go home, enjoy your time off."

"You've got to be kidding me. Your sentence can never exist. Time off is not enjoyable."

"Cristina…"

"No, Izzie, I need surgeries. Lots and lots of surgeries, with blood and cutting and…"

"Yang! What are you still doing here?"

"Bailey?"

"I told you to leave hours ago!"

"But I…"

"I will call security."

"I cannot leave this hospital."

"Alright then."

Ten minutes later, Izzie was shaking her head in amusement as Cristina was forcibly escorted out of the hospital.

"It had to be done," Bailey defended.

"I know. It's just…"

"What?"

"Well, she needs a life outside the hospital and she was so close to having that."

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"Dr. Hahn, welcome, come in and take a seat."

"I've heard Preston has decided to step down as head of cardio-thoracic surgery. Are the rumors true?"

"Dr. Burke will not be returning to Seattle Grace, no. So there is an empty position that needs to be filled."

"I never would have thought he would leave this hospital. And when he's so close to becoming chief." Webber gave her a funny look. "Well, rumor also has it that you're retiring."

"Those rumors, Dr. Hahn, are not true. I am remaining as Chief."

"What _is _going on in this hospital?"

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	3. AUTHOR'S NOTE

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I'm really sorry if you all received alerts that this story had been updated only to find that this little note in place of another chapter…

Anyway, I'm postponing this story indefinitely – I'm just way too busy right now – I'm a compulsively competitive student, like me: grades as Cristina: surgeries, if that makes any sense, and I've got a few time-consuming extra-curriculars. I just don't have the time I want to dedicate to this story and I can't half-ass it, so I'm pushing pause – if things slow way down (not sure I see that happening though), I'll be back sooner rather than later, but I can't promise I'll be back at all – if winter vacation is as soon as I can pick this up, I'll probably start something new… but maybe the season premiere of Grey's will inspire me to make time for writing ff again, we'll see.

Thank you all so so much for your reviews! And I'm really sorry that I'm disappearing for a while, but such is life. Here's to seeing McStizzie this season!


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